Strange, he contemplated, living through other people's happiness.
'That's nice to see true love lasting, not just strangers shacking up with anyone convenient to hide from the ice.' She pulled out another roll-up from her pocket, lit it in the candle flame. 'So, are you here to spy on me?'
Tryst chuckled, glancing up at the stage. 'If only.' He locked eye contact with her, then released it. 'No, I'm just killing an evening on my own. You know how it is.'
'Another night in Villjamur,' she sighed, exhaling smoke. 'I suppose being in this city does that to you. So many people everywhere and none of them cares for you. Not one bit.'
'A little morose.'
'The city, or what I said?'
Tryst liked that. She was certainly entrancing, despite the melancholy, maybe even because of it. 'I'm going to get us another bottle.' He motioned for a serving girl to come over. The girl gave that typical waitress nod-and- smile, then turned to leave. Tryst said, 'What do you think of that one? Pretty or not?'
As Tuya studied the girl as she walked away, he covertly reached out and sprinkled some of the sannindi powder into her drink.
She shrugged. 'All right, I suppose, but you could do a lot better.'
'Well, I'm usually pretty picky, so it must be the Freeze, like you said.' He raised his glass. 'Here's to shacking up with anyone.'
She laughed dryly, joining him in the toast.
*
Half an hour later they were back in Tuya's room. It had taken them some time to climb the intervening levels as the streets were so icy. She was already drowsy, because of the effects of the sannindi. Her place was dark as they entered, so Tryst lit a lantern, and as soon as it came to life, he could see the copious amounts of ornaments and antiques crammed into every available space. With so little else in her life, she had to fill it with something, he guessed.
She was now getting amorous as a side-effect of the drug, but he didn't take advantage. After all, she was now under suspicion of murdering two of the most senior administrators in the city.
One of the doors to the balcony was fractionally open. Because of the noxious smell of paints in the room, he assumed she left it open to let in some fresh air. He walked over to shut out the eternal winter. The landscape had been reduced to a few lights. Everyone was where they should be, in bed, or somewhere warm. Then faintly, he heard some chatter from the streets, two blades clashing, a cough of laughter. Probably a couple of youths testing each other's ability with a sword.
Tuya slumped onto the bed clutching her head in her hands. She glanced repeatedly up at Tryst, then began to loosen her clothing. While she was occupied, he decided to examine the room to see if he could find anything. Uncertain where to start, he moved over to the covered canvases stacked in one corner of the room. Paint, after all, was the only clue Jeryd had found.
Besides several large canvases there were a couple on easels and a dozen much smaller items of art on the side. All were concealed beneath heavy cloth, so he uncovered the first to reveal a large image of an animal that he couldn't identify. Whatever it was, it had several limbs beyond necessary. Its shape suggested something primitive; it generated a distinct feeling of unease.
'Would… would you like to spend the night?' Tuya asked tremulously.
She had closed her eyes, was lying on her side on the bed, wearing only a corset. Tryst could see the hideous scar on her face clearly now. He ignored her, and scrutinized the paintings further.
'You're a handsome one,' she snickered. 'I'd like it if you did. Come on. You know you want to. You men are all the same.'
'Maybe,' Tryst said. 'Just a moment.'
She sat up suddenly. 'What're you doing? Don't look at those.' She pushed herself off the bed, stumbled forwards into his arms, her bare feet sliding on the tiles. She was surprisingly heavy, as he eased her back on the bed. 'Don't look at them,' she repeated.
'Why not?' Tryst said soothingly. 'I think you're a wonderful artist. I want to see your real talents.'
'Really? You're not just saying that?' She sounded confused again. He knew the drug would affect her for a little while longer.
'No, I'm not just saying it,' he said. 'I want to see more.'
'But…' she trailed off.
He could sense her frustration now as she battled with the effects of the sannindi powder. She wanted to order him away from the paintings – the need so clear in her eyes – but she also seemed to desire to please him, to offer him anything she could.
Either way, he didn't care.
'I want to look at your paintings,' he insisted.
She began to take off her corset.
'No,' he commanded, and grasped her hands softly at the wrist. She looked genuinely confused, then gave him a smile tinged with venom.
It said she hated him, without saying anything at all.
'You're a beautiful woman, Tuya,' he said, to reassure her. The last thing he wanted now was to create a scene. 'But I don't think we should, because you don't really want to.'
He pushed her away slightly so that she fell on the bed. She sighed and closed her eyes and just lay there, with her corset still intact.
Tryst walked back to the canvases, this time unveiling another.
What magic is this?
He lurched back in shock. A blue shape appeared to be emerging from the canvas, pumping up and down as if it were someone's breathing chest. No form to speak of. Tryst stared at it for some time. He wanted to question Tuya about it, but thought better of that.
With caution, he revealed another, this time a sketch of the city as seen from her window. Nothing remarkable there. With his eyes fixed on the pulsating blue form, he pulled back the cloth on a fourth painting.
He took several steps away in disgust, holding his hand to his mouth.
Tuya still lay on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. His face creased in horror, Tryst examined the image before him: a hacked-open carcass that seemed altogether too real. A heart – or something resembling one – beat inside it, and streaks of red paint, possibly even blood, had dried while dripping down the canvas. Whatever was in place of a face stared back at him with one unblinking eye. He looked around the room and picked up an empty candlestick and prodded the thing. It squelched away from where he applied gentle pressure.
What the hell is this? Tryst wondered. Is it alive?
'What you… doing now?' Tuya said suddenly behind him. She was grasping a knife, pointing it at him threateningly. 'Get away from them!' she hissed.
The drug was obviously wearing off, fast.
Tryst stood with hands raised, palming the air gently. Trying to disguise his panic, he said, 'Hey, I'm only looking at what you paint… It's truly… remarkable.'
'Just get over by the bed.' She sliced the air as if to reinforce her words. She looked vaguely ridiculous waving a blade around while wearing only a corset.
He did as she ordered. There was a knife concealed in his boot, but he did not want to use it yet. Manipulating her mind would be a much more powerful weapon, if he could get inside her. It was what torturers were trained to do, seeking to work a little beneath the surface.
'I don't mean any harm, Tuya,' he said, noting the slight drowsiness still in her eyes.
She looked at him uncertainly, and he could perceive that she didn't quite know what to do next. She held the knife too close to her, so she wouldn't strike him with it yet.
From her behaviour, these monstrous paintings suggested something deeply personal.
'Tell me about your art,' he said. He glanced to and from her creations, noticed they were still throbbing dully. She turned towards them, and he acted quickly. With the same candlestick, he leaned forward and struck her across her head, and Tuya stumbled, but remained upright, so he hit her twice more, with sharp and clinical blows.
She fell with a groan to the floor.
That was not what he had wanted, but she had forced it, hadn't she, so it had to be done. He placed the
